


Forced Company

by 1989Rad



Series: Heard [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Established TimKon, How one sided has yet to be decided, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, fear toxin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-24 16:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20910560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1989Rad/pseuds/1989Rad
Summary: It has been one month since the incident in Tim’s apartment, when Damian is called to assist an injured Red Robin.Can be read as a stand alone.





	Forced Company

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Shameful Company. 
> 
> If you are looking for a DamiTim story which will make you feel good, I recommend my other work, because this is not meant to be a feel good story.

It had been a month. Exactly one month since the incident. Exactly one month since Damian had fallen apart in Tim’s bedroom. Exactly one month since Damian’s moments of pause became flooded with images of Tim. 

The thought of Tim lapped at Damian’s attention like a wave on the shore. Gaining for a brief moment, only to retreat into the deep ocean. Damian tried to keep his thoughts steady, but each crash felt more and more destructive. 

Damian wanted the waves to stop but knew better. Knew that just when the beach seemed calm, that’s when the storm was truly gaining in strength. A quiet ocean meant a tsunami was building.

Damian forced himself to prefer the waves. 

He swallowed and plunged the thought of Tim’s wet lips beneath the surface of his mind. He had successfully avoided Tim for the entire week. Stopped himself from making a rash decision in order to take revenge on Kon. It was rushing to take on Slade that brought him to Tim’s apartment in the first place. 

He sat on a rooftop overlooking Gotham, embarrassed in the knowledge that he was facing Tim’s apartment, but not strong enough to turn. He rolled his shoulder which was nearly healed. 

No, he needed to get his head on straight before responding. Before acting. His father had once said that he “never saw Tim move too early,” and Damian decided it was the perfect time to follow his example. 

Kon was expecting rash decision making. He would be waiting for Damian to make a move. The clone knew enough about him from Tim and Jon to anticipate a brash attack, but Damian was more than brute strength.

He was his mother’s son and like his mother, Damian knew how to wait. Knew how to plan.

Kon and Damian were alike in many ways, both created by a “villain” to challenge the throne of a legend, but Kon was thrust upon this world. Spat out. Flashy and bold from the start while Damian was raised in the shadows. Waited his entire childhood in them, until ready. Until sure of himself and his skill and -

Damian’s mask sprung to life. “Robin,” Oracle’s voice pinged. “Red Robin needs your assistance at Ward and Connecticut ave. He was dosed with a toxin from Poison Ivy while obtaining her garden blueprints.” 

Damian’s skin bristled.

“Understood,” he said as he began to move, “Was the type of toxin described?”

“Red thinks it’s meant to induce an anxiety attack but didn’t get into details before having to focus on his breathing. You were the closest-” 

“Thank you. I’ll take it from here if you send me his tracking signal.” 

“Sure.” The coordinates appeared. 

“Any other symptoms?” 

“He reported no nausea or illness. Mild hallucinations were confirmed. I recommend removing him from the area and getting him somewhere familiar.”

Damian’s hands were in a vice around the edge of his grapple. “His apartment is close.”

“Only three blocks.”

His mind was swimming as the coordinates shifted on his mask. Tim’s apartment. The same apartment where he had heard Tim and Kon. He kicked off a building with more force than necessary. 

On the one hand, he was glad Ivy’s toxins were not meant to induce arousal. He had seen first hand, the embarrassing effects it had on Nightwing. He will never be able to talk to Kori the same way after hearing Richard wax poetic about her many talents. 

His stomach churned as he touched down. 

Damian felt the guilt ebb. He shouldn’t feel grateful Tim was having a panic attack in an abandoned warehouse as opposed to fighting an erection and yet-

Damian shook his head to rid the wave of images. Tim’s flushed cheeks peeking out from beneath his domino mask. The rise and fall of his chest as tried to desperately contain himself from want. The way his thighs would clench to subdue the stirring desire if the pollen was different.

How if he were aroused when Damian arrived, he might feel just as sickly as Damian. Confused. Flustered, and wanting so badly to be kissed. Held. Sucked off right, in a way that ensured his pleasure. Damian wouldn’t make it as much of a spectacle as Kon had. Damian would cradle the experience, keep it locked up tight in a moment just for Tim. 

Plants, he noted, were still growing in the abandoned warehouse. Slowly but still fast enough for Damian to see. 

Damian sprinted, sliding on the mud-caked pavement. Red flowers were peaking through the broken concrete. A small oasis of life fighting through the blockage of urban decay. 

At the corner of it was Tim. Shrouded in his cape, arms clenching his elbows as he sat on the floor. His head was buried between his biceps. 

He was so quiet. 

If Damian had not had the tracker, he might have run past him. Tim wasn’t moving. Wasn’t rocking or shaking. He was sitting still. It was unsettling.

No panic. No screams. No movement at all.

Silence. Damian broke it by stepping forward. He did not wish to startle Tim. Wanted him to know he was here. “Red Robin?” Damian asked, his voice smaller than expected. Tim didn’t move.

He crouched down before Tim. “Red Robin, are you al-” Damian stopped himself when Tim lifted his head. 

His mask was broken. 

The left lens shattered revealing his red eye. Tears edging on spilling as yellow and purple bruising throbbed around it. Tim’s mouth was white, tight in a way that looked like it hurt. His cheeks were stained with red, dirt, and tears.

Damian felt his own teeth begin to grind.

“Robin?” Tim questioned and Damian watched his slate eyes pinch. Damian nodded. “I still can’t see well.” His voice was softer than Damian thought possible. 

Damian reached out to grip Tim’s shoulder. “Yes. I’m here.” Tim’s arm clenched under his palm and Damian released a bit of his grip. Too tight. “What do you see?”

“Too much,” Tim’s mouth twitched. “It’s not exactly like a fear toxin. I can still see the basics of your shape but it’s not exactly right.” 

“How so?”

Tim’s breath hitched and Damian took his other arm now. “You’re a blur but behind you, I keep seeing,” his voice trailed, eyes shifting past him, and Damian bit down his building frustration. 

A tear slipped down Tim’s cheek streaking dirt alongside it. 

Damian tugged. “Up,” he spat and Tim’s body went rigid under his hand. Damian pulled anyway, jerking Tim’s upper half up. Tim’s knees clanked and instinctually he gripped Damian’s arms. “We are leaving. How extensive is your med bay?”

Tim swallowed, blinking at something past Damian’s shoulder. He was shaking now. Damian’s jaw popped from how tightly he held it.

Tim wasn’t listening well. His usual sharp eyes lost and wide. Unsure of where to stare. Damian shook him slightly and Tim forced himself to look at the blur that Damian assumed he was. “Um,” his mouth flopped open, “It’s enough.” 

Damian weighed the options. He could probably carry Tim back to the manor but he is unsure if too much movement will disrupt Tim’s mind any further. Tim’s apartment was much closer. Even if they swing, the movement would be temporary. Oracle said to take him somewhere familiar. 

“We’re going.” Damian bent to wrap his arms around Tim’s legs, hoisting him over his shoulders. Tim grabbed at his back like a vice. 

“I can walk,” Tim insisted but Damian could feel how tight his legs are beneath the Kevlar. Tim’s muscles must be aching. 

He nudges his cheek into Tim’s hip “This is faster.” He clicked on the communicator, “Oracle. I have Red Robin. I am taking him home. Will alert you if things escalate.” And Damian moved. 

It’s was a bit ridiculous, Damian decided. Tim slug over his shoulder, arms wrapped around Damian’s waist. Tim’s bottom pressed against his ear, and hands gripping his thigh, but they moved fast. 

Upon making it to the roof, he manhandled a now woozy Tim back to his feet and forced his arms around his neck. “Hold on,” he commanded and Tim does so through clenched eyes. Damian used an arm to swing them to Tim’s apartment, and the other to grip his waist. 

They made record time. 

Damian unlocked the apartment window without asking. The knowledge that he did something similar a month before, repeating over and over. 

This time, Tim knows he is here. He was allowed to be here. Tim needed his presence. He carried Tim to the couch, bypassing the bed. Tim needed comfort. He didn’t need Damian’s mind imagining. When Damian lifted Tim’s head to look at him, he stilled.

His veins ran cold. “Timothy,” Damian whispered and Tim was still holding his arms. Still gripping him like a lifeline. His chin quivered and Damian removed the last of Tim’s mask. The blackening around his left eye looks worse now that Damian can see the right.

He watched as Tim’s eyes searched the room and his expression shifted from fear to sorrow. Damian began to make a list. 

Tim needed a stabilizer for the toxin, ice for his eye, and Damian began to stand before Tim tugged him back to the couch. 

“Don’t,” Tim pleaded and tears begin to fall, ugly and fat, “Please don’t.” Damian’s heart was suffocating as he took Tim’s head into his hands. Tim buried himself into Damian’s chest without thinking. Obviously, without thinking, Damian reminded himself. His body shook violently and Damian tried to remember how to comfort. 

He hasn’t needed comforting in years. He thought first of his mother and gripped Tim all too tightly. Tim’s heavy limbs wrap around Damian’s middle. They shifted so Damian leaned back against the armrest, his muddy boot now pressed into being a cushion. 

Tim buried his face against the R on Damian’s chest. Breathed in and out against the Robin logo. 

He mumbled and Damian could not make out the words. “Timothy, I cannot understand you.”

“I don’t want to see,” Tim broke the words with hitched breath and turned his cheek, “I’m sorry.” The strain in Tim’s voice ripped something inside Damian. “It’s embarrassing,” he admitted and Damian thought again of comfort. 

This time, Grayson came to mind. He thought of the nights he spent in bed after coming back to life. The way Richard soothed him. Forced him to feel. Allowed him to be scared. 

He swallowed. “It’s not embarrassing.” He lied. “Wanting comfort is not embarrassing.” Damian tried to douse his words with sincerity but knew that if their roles were reversed, his embarrassment would consume him. “Is it easier when your eyes are closed?”

“They are less clear.” Tim’s nails dug into Damian’s back. 

Damian pulled Tim’s cape to cover Tim more thoroughly. “Who are they?”

Tim shook his head and somehow fell even further into Damian. The older man tightly wound around the younger. “Everyone,” Tim started at an octave Damian did not know possible, “my dad. My mom. Dana. Bart. Steph. All of them.” Damian waited as Tim subdued a sob. 

He considered telling Tim he is allowed to cry. He didn’t.

“Their corpses are all looking at me,” Tim finalized before breaking down even further. The tremble erupted and Damian was glad he kept his mouth shut. Tim was crying on his own now. 

Damian wondered if he had ever heard Tim cry. 

Damian pressed his nose into Red Robin’s hair. 

Tim’s sobbing was insanely quiet. 

His own eyes began to strain behind the mask, so he allowed them to slip shut. Damian listened to Tim’s breath. The little hitches. The tongue clicks. The smacking of lips. The shifting of their body armor against each other. 

Damian thought of how much more comforting he could be without it. Without their personas squashed between them. All barriers removed as Tim sobbed into Damian. 

He wished he could make Tim feel safe. 

Time faded from Damian. Hazing. He held Tim and eventually the sobbing slowed. Ragged breath evened and Tim’s vice on his chest loosened. Damian began to sketch circles with his fingers on Tim’s back. A trick learned from Richard.

The world was nothing more than Damian and Timothy. No one else. Two Robins cradled together. A soft “thank you,” dropped from Tim’s slowing panic. And Damian’s jaw released. He melted a bit into the couch as fatigue began to overwhelm him. 

Tim was ok. Here. In Damian’s arms. 

Timothy was safe. This was the safest place Tim could be. 

A bang was heard on the door. “Tim!” The voice boomed. The handle wiggled, and Tim went rigid once again. Damian turned them so Tim would fall between him and the couch’s back. He stood, Batarang at the ready. Tim grabbed Damian’s gauntlet just as the door swung open.

“It’s Conor,” Tim explained and all at once Tim was taken from Damian.

A gust of wind and Conor was gripping Tim’s face. “I heard you,” he stuttered inspecting Tim’s bruising face, wiping the tears from his skin. “I heard your heart first, and then you were crying.” Tim flushed and Damian turned away. Conner was down on one knee at Tim’s feet. 

Damian pushed his anger down beneath the surface and drowned it. He remembered the to-do list and goes to floorboard Tim has hidden his stranger medical supplies.

“I was hit with something like a fear toxin,” Tim expanded and Damian refused to watch them. He must do what’s needed to keep Tim safe, but he didn’t want to be a part of Kon’s games once again. 

“Something like one?”

“It was Poison Ivy. Not Scarecrow. It started out different. An anxiety attack followed by mild hallucinations.” 

Damian scoffed with his back turned, “Mild.” He laid out the equipment needed for drawing blood on a tray. 

Kon continued to act like he wasn’t here. Like he wasn’t currently doing what was best for Tim. 

“Mild,” Tim repeated with more gusto. “When you get hit with Scarecrow's fear toxin all you can see is the hallucination. You know how when someone takes your picture with a flash, a purple smudge sometimes lingers on your sight?”

A pause. “I don’t Tim.”

“Right. Super eyes.” He laughed and Damian’s heart jolted just a little. “It’s like that though. Like a smudge on your glasses, you can't really focus on. You try to look at it but it always stays just a little too far to the left or right. That’s what it was like.”

A whoosh of wind and Kon is at the fridge. He takes an ice pack and is back holding it before Tim’s eyes. Damian watched Tim lean into the touch. Flinching slightly at the coldness. Damian closed the refrigerator door Kon left ajar. 

“What did you see?” And Tim’s took a big breath through his nose.

“Can we,” he started and stopped, rolling his lip under his teeth, “can we talk about it later? They just stopped and I,” 

“We need to take your blood,” Damian cut in sitting next to Tim. Kon eyed him with suspicion as Tim unclipped his own cape. He rolled up his sleeve with practiced precision. “I will take the sample back to the cave.”

Tim nodded and Damian wrapped the rubber around his bicep. “Well, we know time is one remedy.”

Time and comfort, Damian thought but said nothing.

“But who knows if that will work in the future. When Batman is back we will be able to-”

“I will analyze the toxins,” Damian spoke. “My family history makes me the best option when father is away.” 

Kon put down the ice to hold Tim’s freehand as Damian went to draw blood.

“Should we ask someone else maybe?” Kon questioned, “like in addition to you.”

“Damian knows more about toxins than anyone we can easily ask. This is the best option.” 

Kon sucked air through his teeth, “Fine. But why didn’t you call me?”

Tim tilted his head and winced when Damian inserted the needle. “I called Oracle. Oracle called Damian who was the closest.”

“I would have heard you.”

“You did hear me,” Tim soothed through a tiny smile. “You said it.”

Kon frowned. “I heard your heart. I heard you crying.”

Damian removed the needle and inspected the sample. Tim undid the rubber himself.

Tim took the ice from the couch. “And that is insanely reassuring.”

“Open your mouth,” Damian commanded and Tim did as he was told. Damian doesn’t dwell and takes the sample. Kon’s brows pinched so tight they may merge. 

“You can hear at any time,” Tim continued, “and I mean it when I say that that makes me feel so safe, Conner.” 

Damian stood and took the samples back to the kitchen counter. White-hot anger boiling inside him. Jealously? Was it jealous? Damian rarely felt jealous. Not of Jon’s abilities. Not of any of the Titans. He had saved people numerous times. Why would he be jealous of super hearing?

He had saved Tim. He did not need powers to do so. He did not have the ability to fly, and yet Tim was here in his apartment, thanks to him. Damian packed the samples as quickly as possible. 

“I’m just glad you’re ok,” Kon admitted. “I’ll be faster next time.”

“You’re here. You were fast enough. And Damian?”

Damian was halfway to the window when Tim called. He had pressed himself to his feet. Tim walked, waving off Kon’s help to the Robin. 

Tim smiled through his bruised and only half clean face before reaching out to touch Damian’s bicep. “Thank you again. You really saved me.”

The world swelled and Damian thought of all the things he could say. The things he could do. Tell Tim it was alright. Tell Tim if their situations he been reversed Tim would have done the same. Tell Kon to leave. Instead, he stepped back from Tim’s grasp. “You owe me, Red Robin.” 

Tim blinked before focusing. His eyes back to their usual level to precision. They searched Damian’s face. Kon stepped up behind him. Damian did not look at him but instead turned and climbed out of Tim’s apartment window. “We will meet this week to discuss the results of my testing.” And with that, he dropped back down to Gotham’s streets. 

A promise to be with his Robin in tow.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how this story will progress, if it will be expanded, or how it will go. I’m just writing what I feel like writing and what I feel like writing is angst.


End file.
